


I Don't Wanna Fall

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Fall Away [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Cuddling & Snuggling, D/s AU, Daddy Kink, Dry Humping, M/M, Multi, Off-Screen negotiations, Poly V, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Switch/Switch, World Juniors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5575147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan Strome doesn’t exactly like being a switch, but he doesn’t hate it either.  Well.  He used to.  Until he met Marns, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Wanna Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DefaltManifesto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/gifts).



> Schizzar deserves some daddy kink and dry humping fluff.
> 
> I do not represent the real people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I make any claims about what they do or do not do their private lives.

Dylan Strome doesn’t exactly like being a switch, but he doesn’t hate it either.  Well.  He used to.

Most of the guys he played with were Doms, and most of the others were subs.  Neither of them really understood the other dynamic’s perspective, and they definitely didn’t understand how you could switch between them.

It’s worse, maybe, because Dylan’s at about 30/70 between being a Dom and a sub.  It seems like people expect him to be more of a Dom.

He’s had to turn down a _lot_ of subs who don’t get it.  He’s had to turn down a lot of Doms who won’t give him what he wants.

Until he met Marns, at least.

 

.oOo.

 

They lose the first game of World Juniors to fucking _Team USA_.  Dylan’s the player of the game, but they still fucking _lost_.  He can’t be happy with his own performance if he thinks about a bad pass he made, a turnover, a giveaway, and knows he didn’t play his absolute best.

“Hey, good game Stromer,” Marns says, hooking his arm around Dylan’s neck and dragging him down to his level.  Dylan grins at him, hunching down even further so Marns can lean in and whisper in his ear, “Daddy’s proud.”

He flushes, electric razor still clenched in his hands.  It’s – it’s different hearing it in person, instead of over the phone or through text.  He can feel Marns’s breath, hot and wet, on his neck, feel Marns’s arm even through their pads.

“Thanks,” Dylan mutters.  He can see Marns grinning out of the corner of his eye.  Jackass.

“Any time, babe,” Marns says, squeezing him close and then letting go.  Dylan straightens up to his full height, back to towering over Marns, and clomps over to his stall.

He’s not – it’s easy to text Marns, throw in a couple emojis so Marns doesn’t think he’s _vulnerable_ or anything, and get a bit of praise in return.  He’ll thank Marns and they go their separate ways.  They’re friends, sure, but not the way he and Connor are friends.

Well, they weren’t.

But Marns’s stall is next to his, and he can’t ignore the way Marns keeps brushing against him.  It can’t be an accident, when it happens that often.

He glances around the room; a couple of the younger subs are on their knees already, with a Dom or a switch that they know.

Dylan wants to go down for Marns.  It’s not a feeling he’s familiar with being attached to a specific person.  Usually he’ll just – he’ll need to, and one of the guys will take care of him, or he’ll huddle up with Connor and Connor does his best to help.

“Wait for me after you shower, yeah?” Marns says, grabbing Dylan’s arm when he goes to leave for his shower.

“Yeah,” Dylan replies, eyes wide.  Marns just smiles at him and lets go, turning back to his gear.

He doesn’t want to admit that he’s shaken during his shower, but he is.  Marns must be able to tell what Dylan wants.  It has to be _radiating_ off of him, with how hard it is to keep himself on his feet.

Dylan showers on autopilot, scrubbing his hair and body and rinsing off.  He’d showered that morning, so it’s really just sweat he needs to clean away.

When he’s walking back into the room, out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone on another player’s lap.  It looks like they’re kissing.  He hurries past them, back to his stall to change into his street clothes.

He sits there when he’s finished.  Marns told him to wait, or asked, really, but Dylan had said yes.  He agreed to whatever it is they’re going to do.  He knows Marns wouldn’t force him, if he said no, but he’s… all right, he can admit it to himself.  He’s excited.

Marns finishes changing and stands in front of him.  Dylan has to look up at him; it’s a new experience.

“Let’s go,” Marns says, and pulls him up.

 

.oOo.

 

Like most of the other switches that’ve been drafted, or will be drafted, Marns leans more on the Dom side.  People don’t say it explicitly, that that’s the way hockey-playing switches are supposed to be.  There are subs, sure, but they’re made that way.  Everyone thinks Dylan chose to be more of a sub than a Dom.  He can fake, well enough, being the other way around.

But it also means that he and Marns match up more than they don’t; Marns feels like subbing about as often as Dylan feels like Domming.  Sometimes, Dylan thinks they only started their _thing_ because of that.

It’s why he and Connor have never – okay, so they do, but it’s different.  It’s harder, when Dylan’s feeling like a sub, and Connor’s so much of a sub that he can’t even think about Domming someone.  Dylan loves him for trying, would love him even if he didn’t, but he still has _something_ for Marns.  It wasn’t something he needed to figure out, when he and Connor were together in Eerie and Marns was in London.  But now Dylan hasn’t got anyone to be with.  Just phone calls and texts and skype.

He swears he’s gonna stop being so fucking melodramatic about it.

 

.oOo.

 

 

“You wanna sit on daddy’s lap?” Marns asks, plopping down on the bed.  He slides up until he’s resting against the headboard, hands behind his head.

Dylan’s still stuck near the door.  He could say no, settle in next to Marns, and they’d be fine.  But he _wants_ to sit in Marns’s lap.

So he does.  Dylan toes his shoes off and climbs onto the bed, sitting sideways in Marns’s lap.  Within a second, Marns has his arms around him, pulling him to rest against his chest.  Dylan doesn’t really know what to do, with someone this much smaller than him.

“Stop being so tense, babe,” Marns murmurs.  “Daddy’s got you.”

His cheeks burn, but that’s what gets Dylan to relax, finally.  He slumps against Marns, curling up enough to rest his cheek on Marns’s shoulder.

“There you go, Dyls.  Doing good.”

Dylan lets out a breath and closes his eyes.  Having Marns wrapped around him is… nicer than he thought it would be.  He can feel every point of contact, every breath that makes Marns’s chest rise and fall, every twitch of his fingers or his legs.

It’s affecting him, and he knows that his sweatpants don’t hide it.

“Daddy’s really proud of how you played,” Marns says, his voice soft.  Dylan curls his fingers into the soft fabric of Marns’s hoodie.  “Your goal was amazing.”

“Not amazing enough,” Dylan mutters, but he still lights up inside at the praise.  Marns huffs quietly.

“You can’t help it if their goalie stops it.  It’s not all on you.”

“It’s not on you either.”

Marns shrugs.  Dylan’s not sure he believes him.  He can make him believe something else, then.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Dylan says.  “Daddy.”

“Of course, babe,” Marns replies, kissing the top of his head.  “Daddy likes taking care of you.”

Dylan digs his fingers more into Marns’s sweatshirt.  He thinks about the other ways Marns takes care of him, the panting down the phone, requests and orders in text messages, and he draws his knees up more towards his chest.

“Hey, Dyls, you don’t need to be embarrassed.”  Marns puts his hand on Dylan’s knees and pushes them down again.  Dylan lets him.

“‘m not embarrassed,” Dylan argues.  He’s _something_ , though.  Marns affects him in a way that no one, not even Connor, does.

“It’s okay,” Marns says again.  “If you are.  Or whatever it is.  It’s okay.”

Before Dylan can reply, Marns kisses him on the lips.  Dylan moans softly and kisses him back, eyes fluttering closed.  For all the other things they’ve done, how many times Dylan’s jerked off to a badly lit picture of Marns’s dick on his phone, they’ve never kissed.

Marns licks at the seam of his lips; Dylan opens his mouth, swiping his tongue against Marns’s.

“So good,” Marns murmurs, pulling back barely an inch.  “So good for Daddy.”

Dylan groans, trying to pull himself closer to Marns.  It’s hard, sitting sideways.

Marns slips a hand up Dylan’s shirt, skating over his stomach.  His muscles tense at the touch of Marns’s cold hands.

“Sorry, babe,” Marns says, and kisses him again before Dylan can say it’s all right.  He likes having Marns’s hands on him.  They’re softer than he expected.

Dylan pushes into his touch, trying to say how pleased he is without words.  Marns must get it, because he doesn’t stop.  His hand goes further up, Dylan’s sweatshirt bunching up around his wrist and exposing his skin to the colder air of the room.  He shivers and kisses Marns harder.

Marns rubs his thumb over Dylan’s nipple.  He jerks in Marns’s hold and breaks the kiss to moan.  Marns’s breath fans over his face, and he rubs Dylan’s nipple again, more firmly.  Dylan moans and presses his forehead to Marns’s.

“You like that, Dyls?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dylan pants, squirming in Marns’s lap.  It’s like every touch to his chest is shooting pleasure down into his dick.  He can feel Marns’s cock, hard and pressing into his thigh.

“You want more?”

“ _Yes_ , Daddy, please…”

Marns helps Dylan twist in his lap, so they’re facing each other, and Dylan’s got his knees on either side of Marns’s hips.  Dylan wraps his arms around Marns’s neck, pushing close to kiss him again.

Marns’s hand slips down and cups his ass, squeezing just a little.  Dylan moans into the kiss and jerks, his cock rubbing against Marns’s stomach as he does.

When Marns breaks the kiss, he leans in and kisses Dylan’s neck; with how much taller Dylan is, Marns barely has to duck his head.  At the first touch of Marns’s tongue along the tendons in his neck, he grinds up against Marns.

“Fuck,” Marns pants, biting lightly at Dylan’s neck.

“Daddy,” Dylan whimpers, hips jerking against Marns’s.  Their sweatpants aren’t thin, but he can still feel Marns’s cock, hot and hard, against his every time he pushes forward.  Marns’s other hand settles on Dylan’s ass, too, pulling him forward as Marns bucks up against him.

It’s – _fuck_ , it’s good.  Marns coaxes him into a steady rhythm, Dylan grinding down in Marns’s lap and holding tight to his shoulders.  There are tears pricking his eyes; he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt as good as he does right now.

“You gonna come for Daddy?” Marns pants, breath hot against Dylan’s neck.

Dylan nods furiously, biting his lip on a moan.

“Fuck, Dyls, do it, come in your pants, such a good boy for Daddy—”

Dylan sobs and his back arches, his cock spurting in his briefs.  He bucks helplessly against Marns, pushing as close as he can get.

“Fuck,” Marns bites out, and he comes, too, his grip tightening on Dylan’s ass.  Dylan leans his head against Marns’s, their cheeks pressed together, as Marns trembles under him.

Finally, Dylan murmurs, “Thank you, Daddy.”

Marns huffs a laugh.  “Any time, Dyls.  You know Daddy’d do anything for you.”

Dylan smiles and huddles closer to him.  He can’t fold himself up into Marns’s lap, but this is nice, too.

 

.oOo.

 

He’s facetiming Connor, that night, Marns asleep with his head on Dylan’s chest.  They’d split a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar from Dylan’s backpack.  Marns always passes out after he comes.

“Did Mitch take care of you right?” Connor asks, face lit up with sunlight.  He’s frowning though, his eyes wide and worried.

“Yeah, ‘course he did,” Dylan replies, smiling.  He doesn’t want Connor to worry, especially when there’s no need, but it’s nice to see his concern.

“And he gave you food and something to drink?”

“ _Yes,_ Connor.”

Connor flushes bright red.  “I just want to be sure!”

“I know,” Dylan says, voice softening.

“You did the same thing about the guys on the Oilers,” Connor mutters.

“Yeah, I know.”  Dylan stares fondly at Connor’s face, at the peach fuzz on his cheeks and his chin and the way his eyes are brighter in the sunlight.  “I gotta take care of my boy.”

Connor blushes darker.  “Yeah, yeah.”

“I can’t wait to see you again,” Dylan says, after a moment.  Sometimes his chest aches because of the distance between them, because Dylan’s across the continent or, now, across the ocean.  “Connor…”

“Me either,” Connor says quietly.  He looks away, then back at the camera.  “I don’t have anything that smells like you, anymore.”

“I’ll send you a sweatshirt,” Dylan replies immediately.  He doesn’t pretend to understand it, how Connor wants to wear Dylan’s clothes and bury his nose in the collar of it, but he couldn’t say no to Connor.”

“Thanks,” Connor murmurs.  “I’ll – if I’m not better, I’ll come out during the allstar break.”

“You’ll be better,” Dylan replies, “But thanks.”

Connor’s mouth twists like he wants to argue.  Dylan just laughs quietly, trying to keep from waking up Marns.

“I love you,” Connor says.

Dylan smiles fondly.  “I love you, too.”

Connor ducks his head, just like he does every time Dylan says it.  “Take a nap.  You have another game tomorrow.”

“I know,” Dylan replies.  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tell Mitch I say hi.”

“Of course,” Dylan says.  And, just because he can, adds, “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Connor mutters, and disconnects the call.

Dylan grins at his phone until the screen times out and it turns black.  Marns shifts on his chest, muttering something in his sleep.  An unbearable fondness wells up in his chest, between Marns in his arms and Connor, thinking of him from across the world.

He used to wish he was a Dom, or at least more of a Dom than a sub, so he could be everything that Connor wants.  But then he wouldn’t have Marns, too.  Being a switch is all right, he guesses, if it means he can take care of Connor and have Marns take care of him.

He curls up around Marns and settles down to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> 100% because Mama Strome sends messages to Dylan after like every game saying "Mama's proud" and tbh Dylan Strome would totally have a daddy kink I will fight you on this.
> 
> Join me in sin on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes.tumblr.com

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Can See Your Hands Reaching Up To My Face](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579376) by [DefaltManifesto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto)




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